Under The Moonlight
by MockingbirdWings
Summary: Life is not a song, Sansa has come to learn to her sorrow. It's not a fairytale, with handsome knights with flowers. Yet, one night, under the moonlight, Petyr's affections give her a fairytale. The night walked down the sky with the moon in her hand. - OneShot.


_**She could not have said where the suspicion came from, but once it crossed her mind it would not let her sleep. She tossed and turned, worrying at it like a dog at some old bone. Finally, she rose and dressed herself, leaving Gretchel to her dreams.  
Petyr was still awake, scratching out a letter. "Alayne," he said. "My sweet. What brings you here so late?"  
"I had to know. What will happen in a year?"  
He put down his quill. "Redfort and Waynwood are old. One or both of them may die. Gilwood Hunter will be murdered by his brothers. Most likely by young Harlan, who arranged Lord Eon's death. In for a penny, in for a stag, I always say. Belmore is corrupt and can be bought. Templeton I shall befriend. Bronze Yohn Royce will continue to be hostile, I fear, but so long as he stands alone he is not so much a threat."  
"And Ser Lyn Corbray?"  
The candlelight was dancing in his eyes. "Ser Lyn will remain my implacable enemy. He will speak of me with scorn and loathing to every man he meets, and lend his sword to every secret plot to bring me down."  
That was when her suspicion turned to certainty. "And how shall you reward him for this service?"  
Littlefinger laughed aloud. "With gold and boys and promises, of course. Ser Lyn is a man of simple tastes, my sweetling. All he likes is gold and boys and killing." - A Feast for Crows.**_

Sansa didn't know what to say to that. He seemed certain of his plan and she didn't get to question him. She nodded and avoided talking further about it by lowering her gaze to the letter he was writing before she entered.  
"Oh, that." He said without her even having to ask him about it. "Apparently there are still some lords that I need to inform about your aunt's death, sweetling." He said and picked up his quill again, adding a few lines to the letter.  
_You mean my aunt's murder_, she thought but she kept silent. She should be grateful it wasn't her who had fallen out of the moondoor, all because he came in time to save her.  
"Was our young lord prude tonight?" he asked suddenly, making her blink to snap out of her thoughts. He had finished the letter and his piercing gaze was on her once again. She could see the flames of the candles shining in his pupils.  
She nodded. "Yes…he fell asleep easily." Sweetrobin was the last thing she wanted to talk about. He was giving her enough trouble already when he was around.  
"You're rather patient with him." He muttered as he stood up from his chair and approached her. "You'll make a good mother, one day." He smiled at her, one of the few times he did with both his lips and his eyes.  
Before she could think of something to answer, he was standing in front of her, taking one of her hands in his. She looked down, watching as his thumb brushed against the back of her hand. She swallowed. The last time she remembered him so close to her was when he had kissed her in the snow; a circumstance with rather sinister consequences.  
"I should…go to sleep. It's late." She murmured, softer than she wanted to and brought her eyes back on his face, reluctantly. Their gazes met.  
"Let me show you something first." He answered and cupped her hand that he was holding with his second one as well. He didn't leave her much of a choice.  
Sansa followed him as he guided her outside, to the small balcony of his chambers. The pale skin of her cheeks tingled at the contact with the cold breeze that rushed upon her face. He must have noticed that she shivered since he returned inside only to bring his black cloak along and wrap it around her shoulders. He stood next to her and they both looked straight ahead. It was a quiet, starry night.  
"Tell me, Sansa, what do you see?" She glanced at him. It had been a while since her real name had been used, yet it still gave her a pleasant feeling to be reminded who she truly is.  
The moon was full, its silver light beams allowed her to see far enough in the horizon.  
"I see..." she started but soon regretted doing so. All she could see were the mountains of the Vale. Certainly that wasn't what he wanted her to say.  
"The world." He finished her sentence. "And it will be yours, if you want it to be."  
Sansa felt him looking at her_. I just want Winterfell,_ she thought. _I just want to go home. _She looked up to the full-moon, a sight she hadn't taken time to witness in years. Lady, her direwolf, used to howl at it. Until she was slaughtered, all because Sansa was too weak and scared to admit what had really happened. That Sansa, though, was gone. Her thoughts got interrupted when she felt Petyr's hand on her cheek. Her face flushed at the contact. She looked at him, realizing he had come closer while she wasn't paying attention. The moon rays made his eyes sparkle. As his face was turned towards her, half of it was bright under the moonlight and the other half remained dark and shadowed. _Two faces_, she reckoned_. Two sides of him, two different people. _She felt his other hand upon her waist, drawing her closer to him until their faces were inches apart. His breath was fresh; she still wondered how he always managed to keep it that way. Her cheek was now cupped his palm and her gaze was left boring into his, awaiting for his next move. She knew what was coming but she didn't try to push him away.  
"I want to give you the world." Petyr whispered before his grey-green eyes lowered to her lips.  
She closed her eyes just before their lips made contact. He tasted as sweet as the other time he had kissed her, with a touch of mint. Back in Winterfell, she used to read stories about knights kissing their ladies in the moonlight and confessing their love to them. Till now in her life it had become clear to her that those were just fairytales, plots that could never become reality. Petyr was certainly no knight nor had he confessed his love to her. But he was suave with her; she knew that if she pulled away, he would let her go. But she didn't. Their lips were locked together for a long time before he opened his mouth a little, attempting to deepen the kiss. With his hand upon her waist, he pressed her more tightly against him. She didn't know how to react, given that she had never had more than just a plain kiss before. He guided her lips to move with his, slowly. Her breath hitched. She hesitantly brought a hand to his nape and held herself against him, allowing her lips to massage with his, as he had initiated. Soon after she felt his tongue parting her lips and invading her mouth, making her whimper softly as it touched hers. She shivered. She could only imagine where this was going if they continued. _Love is not the thing he wants_, Shae had told her once. But wasn't it, really? Maybe it wasn't the _only _thing he wanted. She slid her hand from his nape to his chest and took a step back, breaking their kiss abruptly. He attempted to caress her cheek as his hand was still on it but she turned away.  
"I'm sorry, I…I can't." she mumbled quickly and walked hastily back inside. She didn't look back. He was probably left standing there, surprised…and hurt? She couldn't know. She didn't want to know. Looking back would only bring her back to his kisses and affections.  
She left his cloak on his bed and exited his chambers, heading to her own. No, Petyr was no knight from a fairytale, who just got abandoned by the lady that refused to face her feelings for him. He was no knight from a fairytale, who showed his love through his affections under the moonlight instead of confessing it in words. Yet, he had made her feel as if she was in one of those fairytales; those stories of love that she thought could never be real.


End file.
